


The Family on the Farm

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: East - Edith Pattou
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: Snapshots of the untold story of Harald and Sara’s romance.
Relationships: Harald Soren/Sara





	The Family on the Farm

**Author's Note:**

> I already have another story about this couple, “Southborn”, told from Sara’s point of view, posted ages ago on FF.net, but this one is not related to it (though covers roughly the same time span).
> 
> And I’ve only just found out what happens in _West_ the sequel. It’s just... all right, opinions differ, but for me it will now sadly be "Sequel? What Sequel?"

I had just arrived in Norway after a long voyage from Reval when I had that weird dream. A huge white bear with oddly human black eyes was standing on a stony shore and talking to me about something in a deep gruff voice. There was urgency in his voice, I remembered it clearly after waking up, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall what were his actual words.

Now, the Baltic Sea is pretty rough to sail in this time of year, and I was extremely tired after many sleepless nights on board my ship. I figured out the strangeness and the vividness of the dream were simply a trick of my imagination.

Anyway, I couldn’t afford to dwell on dreams and suchlike for much longer. In the morning, I had a meeting with Mogens.

“Some of the farmers in the north still haven’t paid the debt,” he told me. “I sent them word to vacate their lands within this month.”

“You told them they are being evicted?” I asked. “Have you actually talked to them?”

“No, sir, I couldn’t leave Oslo, so I sent them letters.”

“The past fifteen years have given us some awful weather,” I pointed out. “It hit small farms very hard.”

“Sir, I have made inquiries,” he gave me a short handwritten list of names, “and found out that most of these are hopeless spendthrifts or drunks, usually both.”

“Most? Not everyone?”

“Er, well – no.”

I looked at the list. Mogens had indeed marked the names of people who obviously couldn’t be trusted with farms, but there were several lines with no marks or comments near them. As I looked closer, I saw that the people in question shared the same last name.

“A man, two sons… _and wife, and three daughters_?” I glared at Mogens. “You planned to evict a family of _seven_ without even learning more about their situation? Really, Mogens, you have a good head for business and I am forever grateful for all your help, but I will not see this repeated again.”

“Yes, sir,” he said stiffly. “I only want to make sure the farms give us enough profits.”

“Wonderful, but I won’t have you doing it without taking the farmers into account,” I said. “I’m going to visit this family and see what might be done for them. Do you know if any proper maps have been drawn recently?”

* * *

I couldn’t believe it. The student of the legendary mapmaker – living on my land! As soon as I saw the maps he had completed, as he said, in his free time, I knew I had to talk him out of wasting his talent on a farm. An idea of funding a mapmaking business for him immediately started to form in my head.

Besides, I simply liked the family. Arne was clearly feeling awkward around me and his son Neddy kept shooting me suspicious looks, but I could imagine their anxiety after that horrid letter from Mogens. I saw that they were good and trustworthy people, and that is what counted.

“I am not in the mood for any business ideas, to be honest, Master Soren,” Arne confessed later that day, his awkward but polite mask finally slipping. “Our daughter Sara… she is very sick. We don’t know… if we can actually hope, sir.”

“Oh, God!” I wanted to ask them why they hadn’t told me earlier but thought better of it. Of course, the behavior of Mogens made them pretty suspicious. “I have never had children, so I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now, but believe me that I am deeply sorry and hope for her speedy recovery.”

In fact, I instantly decided to bring a doctor over on the following day. I didn’t mention it beforehand, though, to avoid wounding Arne’s pride.

* * *

“Master Soren?” I heard a quiet voice as I was just leaving the farm after discussing Arne’s mapmaking projects.

Turning around, I saw a very pale, very thin big-eyed girl. She rose from a bench where she had been sitting in the sunlight.

“You must be Sara,” I smiled. She was the only one of the family whom I hadn’t met yet (apart from the mysterious Ebba Rose, allegedly living with relatives), as she had been bedridden for such a long time. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, curtseying clumsily. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, sir.”

“Please, no need for ceremony. We are not at the royal court.”

“Oh! Oh, thank you, sir. I just wanted to tell you I’m eternally grateful – for letting us stay on the farm, and, and for calling Dr. Trind for me,” her dull eyes sparked. “I don’t know where we would have been without you. I would’ve certainly died.”

“It was my duty towards my tenants,” I said. “And calling the doctor here was truly no trouble for me. It was his efforts that saved you, and now it’s you who is doing all the hard work of getting healthy again.”

“I’m trying to,” she gave a small laugh. “Still, thank you, for everything, sir.”

* * *

The more I thought of it, the more certain I became that there was something very fishy going on about Rose. Living with relations, indeed! I saw how pale everyone’s faces became whenever her name was mentioned. Everyone’s, except for Sara’s, that is. She was remembering some childhood story at dinner and accidentally brought up Rose. Immediately, her cheeks reddened, as if with shame. 

What if Rose needed help and they were too ashamed to ask for it? Sometimes I wished the rigid rules of politeness didn’t exist and I could simply ask them about her.

Well, at least Sara was definitely getting better with every passing day. As it turned out, she wasn’t as pale, fragile and shy as she had first seemed to me. That was, of course, the remnant of her sickness. I discovered she was, in fact, the liveliest of the lot.

* * *

“Father is away getting the book you talked of the other day, Mother is visiting Widow Hautzig, and Neddy, Sonja and Willem are all in the fields,” she said. “I do wish they had taken me with them… oh, I’m so sorry, Master Soren! I don’t mean that I didn’t want to meet you, not at all, it’s just that…” she glanced out of the window wistfully.

“I understand, Sara,” I said. “I know that feeling: longing to work again after a long sickness… Believe me, I’ve had it many times. But you remember how bad your condition was. You need to get perfectly fine again before you can get back to field work.”

“It’s not just that, I hate feeling useless!” Sara cried. “Mother and Sonja do all the chores for me as if I’m made of crystal, too… I… Oh, am I boring you with my stupid talk again?”

“Not in the least, and it’s not stupid.”

* * *

Somehow I’ve spent a great deal of time with Sara since her recovery. She was (despite her initial fears) very easy to talk with, probably because she had a passionate nature similar to my own. Even after her full recovery, when she was finally allowed to work in the fields, she and I continued to meet pretty often. 

She came to see her father off when we were leaving on our first mapmaking journey, giving him a basket of homemade pastries. At least, I thought she only came because of her father.

“I’ve also got a small present for you,” she told me suddenly. “Just… just a small one, but… a token of my gratitude.”

Would she ever stop going on about gratitude? The only thing I ever did was being better than Mogens!

Sara handed me a lovely charcoal sketch of their farm in full spring blossom. It wasn’t very detailed, of course, but the vast sea of field flowers looked even better when drawn schematically.

“The farm wouldn’t have existed now without you,” she said.

“Wait – did you do this yourself? The sketch?”

“Yes,” she blushed, “I’ve always been rather fond of charcoal drawing. I watched Father at work on his maps, but I’ve always rather wanted to do pictures instead.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you, Sara.”

She looked radiant. With relief, I noted to myself that no trace of the sickness remained in her face anymore. Her blue eyes were shining, her hair was glossy in the sun, and her dimpled smile was so wide and happy that I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

* * *

“We’ve had a letter from Nils, my eldest brother!” she told me with joy.

“Oh, that’s excellent,” I said. “How’s he doing?”

“Quite fine. He’s actually planning to visit us, maybe in the autumn or next year, if he has enough free time…”

She was holding a huge bouquet of field flowers and obviously planning to head for the door.

“Oh, forgive me, I’ve blocked your way,” I stepped slightly aside from the doorstep.

“It’s fine, sir, I’m not in a hurry! I’m just going to help the villagers with Sankthans decorations.”

Of course. I had completely forgotten – the summer festival was approaching fast.

“Sonja is going to Sankthans, of course, so she’s already there in the village,” Sara continued. “She asked me if I was going, I’m still thinking, though,” she looked at me.

“Oh,” I said. Sankthans, where all the village lads would be gathered in a single tiny field? Sara had only recently recovered, she probably shouldn’t be spending time in a crowd. Of course, if Arne was letting her go there, it was their decision, but it made me very uneasy anyway. I wouldn’t want her to go.

She continued to look at me pointedly, until I realized I continued to block her path – with her enormous bouquet, she couldn’t walk past me. I stepped further aside, letting her pass.

She still huffed in frustration.

* * *

Summer gradually gave way to autumn. For the first time, Arne went on a journey alone, to France. For some reason, he was especially anxious to go there.

There definitely was _some_ reason other than mapmaking, because the rest of the family were just as anxious to receive any news from him. They looked much more agitated than they usually did during his journeys.

When I came for a visit once, I spotted Sara and Neddy talking in hushed whispers in the garden. Judging by their all-too familiar crestfallen expressions, they were talking of Rose.

For the hundredth time, I wondered what was happening with their youngest sister.

What if I could help them? But how could I do it without knowing anything?

* * *

“Merry Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas!”

As we all raised the glasses, Eugenia started cutting the Christmas pie. The woman’s superstitions were way over the top, but she was kind and generous – and a wonderful cook.

Over the past year, I had really been all but accepted into the family. I don’t know how it happened, but now they treated me as almost one of their own. Instead of joy, I felt rather ashamed and awkward: this is how lonely they were, there was no one to help them but a couple of equally poor neighbors, so they lavished their kindness on the first person to treat them decently. 

My eyes wandered towards Sara. She was laughing at some joke of Sonja’s, her hair looking like liquid gold in the candlelight and her beautiful face more full of life than ever.

She caught my eye and smiled at me. My heart leapt slightly.

_No, stop that. She is the daughter of your business partner, not to mention twenty years younger._

My face grew warmer as I realized I didn’t care as much as I should have. 

“More grog, Harald?” Arne offered cheerfully.

“No!” I said more sharply than I intended to and masked the sharpness with a cough. “I’d rather… some water.”

_It’s the grog. Just the grog, of course…_

I determinedly looked away.

* * *

When I walked to the farm, I spotted a familiar golden-haired figure on the bench. _No. Please no. Please go to the fields…_

Ever since Christmas, I had tried to push Sara out of my mind. It quickly became alarmingly clear that my feelings had nothing to do with the grog and everything to do with all the time we had spent together. How could I have been so careless? Staying alone with an unmarried girl – if anyone had watched us, Sara would be ruined. And if…

The thoughts fled my head, however, as I got closer and saw Sara was crying.

“What’s happened?” I asked, instantly alert. Was anyone else from the family sick?

I sat by her side on the bench, and, with a sob, Sara threw her arms around me.

For a split second, my blood heated at the sensation, but it thankfully didn’t last. It wasn’t the time for such things.

“It’s Rose,” Sara finally managed. “She came to visit us… and Mom gave her a candle… oh, but it doesn’t make sense for you, I’ll tell you from the start…”

With astonishment, I listened to her story about Rose and the talking white bear. _This_ was something beyond my wildest theories of Rose’s fate! If anyone else had told me such a tale, I’d have laughed it off as nonsense, but this was _Sara_ , ever-sincere Sara, crying her heart out for her sister who had now made some mistake and had to go “east of the sun, west of the moon”, wherever that was. 

“Your sister will be fine,” I whispered finally. I wasn’t just giving empty comfort: judging by what I heard about Rose, she wasn’t one to give up. “She is brave and resilient, you told me yourself. I know it, Sara: she will correct whatever her mistake was and return to u… to you safe and sound.”

Suddenly, I recalled my dream of more than a year ago. The white bear urging the family to give up Rose – and a white bear appearing in my dream… Was he trying to convince me to help them? It wasn’t a very cheering idea: that my actions in the past months had been controlled by someone else… But then again, I didn’t remember what he said to me, did I? Fine, the bear may have hinted at something, but the decisions were entirely my own.

I looked at Sara’s trembling form. She was no longer weeping, but rather sniffling – and still clinging to me, making my heart ache with the urge to protect her. _Well, this particular decision was especially my own. No magical white bear could have made me feel… this._

* * *

“Neddy, where can I find your sister Sara?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. _It’s been only two weeks since you found her crying in the garden! Do you think it’s even remotely appropriate?  
_

“She’s in the living-room, sketching, I believe,” Neddy said absentmindedly, his nose in a book. _If only he knew… Nobody has any idea.  
_

Sara was indeed making another charcoal drawing – that of a huge white bear and a girl, probably Rose.

“Master Soren?” she smiled ( _again!_ ). “I’ve just finished, in fact.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “It makes it… easier for me to cope, I suppose.”

I looked at the drawing. Despite its sketchiness, the girl’s determination was visible in her face. The bear had kind eyes, unlike any white bear I had heard about (but like the one in my old dream).

“When I look at it, I can believe she’ll make it,” Sara said gently.

The mood was definitely wrong for a proposal. We spent half an hour talking, but not about what I intended.

* * *

My next chance came on the following day. Once more, I found Sara in the garden, but she wasn’t melancholy this time. She was watering the flowers and humming to herself. 

“Sara, I wanted to ask you something,” I said.

She put down the can and looked at me expectantly:

“Yes, Master Soren?”

I came a little closer:

“Sara – my darling Sara – while your whole family are close and dear friends of mine, for you I feel something more than that. Your liveliness and warmth have won my heart over the time we’ve known each other. I understand that I am so much older, but I swear to you that I will do anything in my power to make you happy. I am ready to give you whatever your heart desires if you’ll only accept my love. Sara – will you marry me?”

Her eyes lit up and her face flushed with happiness. Dare I hope?..

“On one condition – cross out that part before last,” she said firmly. “About giving me things. I don’t want to feel I married you for your wealth. For that matter, I don’t want you to feel so, either.”

“Crossed out. That wasn’t the best choice of words,” I agreed, my heart soaring. “And now?..”

“Do you even doubt my answer?” Sara exclaimed. “You’ve been so kind – always so understanding with me…”

“You said you don’t want to marry me for my money, well – I don’t want to marry you for your gratitude.”

“It’s not that!” she shook her head vehemently, now blushing deeply. “I’ve been past that for months. Master Soren – _Harald –_ don’t you see how my feelings have long ripened into love?” 

I had hoped for it, of course, hoped for it very much, but to hear her spell it out in truth made me utterly dizzy with happiness. For a brief moment, I was afraid it was a dream.

When I drew Sara into a kiss, though, I knew it was very, very real.

* * *

“Everyone advises me not to put off the wedding,” Sara said. “I… I’m not sure, Harald.”

She didn’t want to get married before Rose’s return. Which I found perfectly understandable (well, to be fully honest, every now and then I had the irrational fear that she was getting cold feet, but I knew it to be ridiculous).

“Rose would want me to be happy, of course,” she went on. “But… oh, I don’t know. I’m still ashamed.”

“Well, let’s wait for her for some more time,” I suggested. “How about scheduling the wedding for next summer? Rose will probably be back by then. The last time she came home – remember? – it was exactly after a year of absence.”

“A year exactly? Then let’s make it spring. Right after Easter, perhaps?”

“Spring?” I repeated, surprised.

“Harald, don’t you even think I haven’t seen your frightened looks every time I talked about delaying the wedding. Maybe now you will see that I am only putting it off for Rose’s sake, and _certainly_ not because of myself.”

* * *

It was astonishing. We had found Rose – her and about two dozen other people who had escaped from trolls. Trolls, actual trolls who apparently lived in some bewitched land north of Greenland. Part of me still refused to believe it, even though I saw these starved, exhausted people and heard their stories of what happened to them.

Rose turned out to be exactly as I had imagined her after Sara’s drawings and everyone else’s tales: she was short and dark-haired with oddly purple eyes, and despite her thinness, I could see the strength in her look.

There was also a man who had previously been turned into a white bear. _The_ white bear. Strange, but I found it much easier to take in than the stories of trolls. Possibly because the man looked definitely familiar, and I even knew why. I had seen him in the white bear’s shape.

When I asked him about the dream, though, he shook his head:

“I don’t know. If anything, it was the troll magic. The trolls, Urda and poor Tuki, were made to serve me and obey my wishes, and I did wish for Rose’s sister to get cured and for her family to climb out of poverty…”

“But the dream didn’t influence me. I’m telling you, I had so much on my mind that I only remembered part of it.”

We never did find out what it was with the dream. I didn’t press the matter further with the former bear: I knew it would be a grave shock for him if he suspected his promises to Sara’s family could have stayed unfulfilled if, say, Mogens had been in my place.

* * *

In all the excitement of Rose’s return and her announcement of her own engagement with Charles, the man who used to be the bear, the several weeks before my wedding passed in a blur. Before I knew it, the last evening was there.

“Well, that was surely an eventful engagement,” Sara said. We decided to take a walk around Trondheim before sunset.

“I’m just sorry you had to wait almost the entire winter for me.”

“You went to search for my sister, don’t you recall? Besides, I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with a traveler,” she chuckled. 

“In fact, I intend to take you along on my future, less dangerous voyages.”

“Are you sure I won’t be a dead weight?”

“Oh, how could you be one, Sara, my love?”

She nestled her head against my shoulder:

“When will it be? Your – our next voyage?”

“Not too soon, I think. I want you to get used to your new life.”

“Then,” she looked at me, “can we go together to this year’s Sankthans celebration? I do love Sankthans and I want to enjoy it with you.”

“That’s a wonderful plan,” I said, imagining Sara amidst garlands of flowers. “We’ll go.”

I thought of offering to bring her to Bergen – the town was famous for its Sankthans festivities – but bethought myself. Sara hated it when I “went all charitable on her”, as she put it, and I wasn’t going to start a quarrel ten hours before the wedding. Anyway, the local Sankthans celebrations would do just as well.

Especially, I thought as I drew my bride closer, in Sara’s company. 


End file.
